


you've got the love

by bravepress



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 16:57:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1096338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bravepress/pseuds/bravepress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"missed you," breathes louis as soon as harry is close enough to touch.</p><p>harry's skin is the color of sunlight, tan from a month in australia. <em> i still miss you, </em> louis thinks, <em> even when you're here because tomorrow you'll leave again- </em></p><p> </p><p>harry is famous. louis isn't. they only have one night together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you've got the love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nutella_enthusiast](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nutella_enthusiast/gifts).



Harry brushes snow out of his hair and off the shoulders of his coat before he hangs it up in the hallway closet. He's so tidy; Louis has done his best to keep the flat clean while Harry was away, but they're two different people with two very different ideas of what the word  _cleaning_ means. Louis, still sitting in the kitchen, watches him straighten up and look around at the flat, like he's reorienting himself.

Louis is going to wait. He's waited for months, except for texts and Skype calls, and he can wait a little longer. It'll make it better, maybe. It'll make it more exciting when he sees Harry properly. Not that it needs to be any more exciting, but still. 

Harry's voice floats in from the hallway. Louis can almost smell the coffee on his breath, the cheap hotel shampoo he uses when he runs out of the strawberry kind Louis always packs for him. "Did you kill all the plants while I was gone?"

"Excuse you," calls Louis, adding a little petulance to his tone to make up for how much he  _wants._ "Well. Maybe two of them," he says quietly.

"I can see Peter's dead, so he'd better be one of the two-"

"Oh my god, did you seriously name the fern  _Peter_ ," says Louis, but then Harry is leaning into the kitchen and it's very different having Harry this close than it is to simply know he's in the house. Louis can see him now, the shape of his body under his jumper and shirt, the way he's building muscle again like he always does when he's on tour. 

"Missed you," breathes Louis as soon as Harry is close enough to touch.

Harry's tan from a month in Australia, skin the color of sunlight.  _I still miss you,_ Louis thinks,  _even when you're here because tomorrow you'll leave again-_

and like Harry can read his mind, he leans down and kisses him, hard, and says "I'm not going anywhere, babe."

If only that were true. 

 

 

He only gets one day of Harry, this time. It has to be enough, technically, because it's all they're allowed to have. It's never enough. 

"There's nothing in the fridge," says Harry apologetically. Louis knows this, obviously, because he didn't bother to stock the apartment with food. "We can get takeaway, if you'd like? There's that place down the street with the pad thai, or there's-"

Louis pushes him back against the door of the fridge and leans his forehead against Harry's shirt, just taking in the fact that he's here.

"Okay." Harry cards his fingers through Louis' hair. Louis can feel him smile, press a kiss against his temple. "Or there's this."

"Fuck your takeaway," says Louis, mumbling against the softness of Harry's jumper (the hard muscle underneath, the jut of his collarbone- Louis is maybe a little bit fixated on what's under the jumper, but that's a natural consequence when your boyfriend is jetting around the world with his boy band seven months out of the year). "I just want you."

 

  
Night falls over London and the flat is flooded with moonlight again. Louis spreads himself out on the bed in just his briefs, shivering and laughing at the way Harry always trips over himself trying to get out of his skinny jeans. 

"Hey," pouts Harry, and then "Oops" when he actually does trip, falling face first onto the thick quilt.

Louis pushes himself up on his elbows, grinning. "Hi."

"Hi yourself."

The nightlight in the corner does nothing to actually illuminate the room, but it does everything to show the contours of Harry's face, the way his cheekbones stand out in the pale light. It puts the bruise-like shadows under his eyes into sharp relief. 

"You're exhausted, aren't you?" says Louis. He's feeling a little sweeter than he usually does when he gets Harry to himself-

(His mind flashes to last time, in May, when Harry had given him the keys to his apartment and whispered "Stay here while I'm gone" and they hadn't left the flat for three days. They were both nearly too sore to walk by the time Harry had to leave again)

-and he runs his fingers down the side of Harry's face, just letting himself feel. 

"I'm okay," says Harry. "Just happy to be home." He ducks down and kisses Louis, softly for a moment and then more deeply, licking into his mouth until Louis kisses him back. It's their favorite way to say  _hello I love you welcome home._

 

 

When they're close like this, Louis can forget that Harry is gone half the year, that he's constantly on tour and could have anyone in the world. 

But somehow-

somehow he picked  _Louis,_ and that leaves him lit up with something that feels so much bigger than happiness. 

 

 

"I'll fly you out," says Harry, kissing a slow line up the inside of Louis' thigh. Louis drops his head back onto the pillows. He wants to watch- he always wants to watch- but it feels so good already and Harry's voice is so low that all he can do is nod against the pillows, say "Yeah, Haz."

Harry traces over the tendons in the back of Louis' knee. "When we're in France, I mean. I'll fly you out so you can see the Eiffel Tower."

"If you fly me out," says Louis, but then Harry does something with his tongue on Louis' skin and he blanks out for a moment. 

"When I do," Harry corrects.

 "When you fly me out to Paris, we're locking ourselves in the room." Louis has his fingers tangled in Harry's hair, something  _anything_ to anchor himself with while Harry keeps doing the tongue thing. He's so fucking good at this, at making Louis feel good, feel like he's being taken care of. "And we're not coming out-  _fuck,_ Harry," he whines when Harry moves his mouth further up. "Not 'til we actually do run out of food."

Harry pauses from where he's sucking a bruise into Louis' upper thigh, so close to where Louis wants his mouth and fingers to be. He's got the most excellent, clever fingers. "They're nice hotels. Excellent room service. They won't let us run out."

"Well," says Louis. And then he says nothing at all, because Harry is pushing his legs apart, giving himself more space. Louis sucks in a sharp breath at the feel of Harry's mouth on him, toes already starting to curl with how good it is, how vulnerable he feels like this. 

 

 

Harry's still shuddering with the aftershocks of his orgasm, breathing nonsense words against the side of Louis' neck that all sound a little like  _I love you_. Louis slides a hand down to the dip of Harry's waist, pulling him closer and waiting for his breathing to settle into a calmer pattern. 

When he's come down, Louis kisses his slack mouth, brushing his sweat-damp hair back from his forehead. Harry's eyes are still shut, lashes clumped together with sweat and, maybe, tears. He hasn't pulled out yet (Louis won't admit it, but he loes it when Harry stays in him for a little while after they've finished), and Louis bites his lip at the stab of  _more / too much_ that hits him when Harry shifts. 

Louis takes a moment to look at him, and he loves what he sees. There's so much beauty in this bedroom when Harry's in it. 

"Someday you're going to get home and we're actually going to sit down and talk," he says, half to himself and half to his barely-listening boyfriend. "And we'll fuck after, yeah, but we're gonna talk first. Like a normal couple." He runs his toes over the edge of Harry's calf, where their legs are still tangled together. 

Harry nods against his shoulder and presses Louis' thigh up to his chest when he pulls out, easing the burn of it. 

"Someday m' gonna get home and not leave again," Harry mumbles. "And you'll be here and we'll get a cat, or something, and we'll just, like." He's struggling for words- Louis isn't sure if it's because he's just come or if it's because it's hard for him to imagine what will happen after One Direction and his current jetset life. "We'll just be together."

They only have a few more hours before the sun is up and Harry has to head out into the world again, to sing and sign autographs and be  _famous popstar Harry Styles._ Until then, they'll leave the lights off and stay wrapped up in each other's warmth. So Louis has to kiss him hard to shut him up, hands on either side of Harry's face, because he can't let himself get caught up in imagining that. If he does, he'll never stop.

He can't think of a better future. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i hope this was alright, and happy holidays!
> 
> [now available in polish [right here](http://cmondoncaster.tumblr.com/post/81510891043/youve-got-the-love-tlumaczenie-polskie-by-dusty), huge thanks to dusty!]


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